Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Umm…”
“So I guess your lunch break consisted of a shopping trip?” she prompts.
I press my lips together then ask, “What did he say?”
“You can ask him yourself. He’s on his way down here.” She smiles, and my heart starts to pound in my chest.
“Why are you smiling?” I hiss.
“’Cause what he told me to tell you didn’t exactly sound like punishment.”
“Oh, my God. Z has caused you to become delusional.”
“If you want a head-start on getting away, I suggest you go now.” She returns to looking at her computer, and I glare at her then jump when I hear the sound of a door slamming in the parking lot.
“I hate you,” I tell her, watching Wes walk up to the front of the clinic.
“Run.” She laughs, and I do just that. I take off towards my office, where I know I have a lock on the door, enter, and shut it behind me, pressing the button.
“Babe, open the door.” Wes pounds, and I’m sure my ex-best friend told him where I am, because she would find it funny. “If you don’t open it, I’m taking it off the hinges,” he shouts, and I have no doubt he will do just that, so I take the two steps to the door, twist the knob, releasing the lock, and then jump back behind my desk, putting it between us.
I expect the door to crash open, but instead, it opens slowly and Wes fills the space, his hands resting on his hips. I didn’t see him before he left this morning, because like most days, he went to work a couple hours before me. My eyes take him in, not for the first time thinking how lucky I am. He is hot, today and like always, and in anger, his features stand out and he looks even more handsome. His top-half is covered in a burgundy thermal, and a black jacket with a straight collar that looks good against his neck and jaw. Today’s jeans are darker, and of course his black boots. My eyes travel from his boot-covered feet to his face.
“Hey.” I smile, and his eyes narrow before he steps inside the office and shuts the door.
“Lose the clothes.”
At his words, my body jumps and I whisper, “What?”
“Take off your clothes, ’cause if I do it, I can’t guarantee you’ll have anything to wear home.”
“Wes—”
“Now, July.”
“I may have a client.”
“You don’t I made sure.”
My hands go to my jacket and I slip it off my shoulders then pull my shirt off over my head. As I remove my clothes with shaky fingers, he moves the stuff on my desk, setting it aside before taking off his jacket and tossing it onto my chair. Knowing what is going to happen—or thinking I know what’s going to happen—is causing wetness to form between my legs and my breathing to pick up.
I stand there naked, and Wes’ eyes move hungrily over me before he growls,
“Come here. I want your tits to the desk and your hands above your head.”
“Wes—” I try again.
“No more talking; just do it.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek for just a moment before stepping around to the side of my desk, bending over the side, and inhaling a sharp breath as my nipples touch the cool wood.
“Hands all the way up,” he orders. I slide my hands out above me until I’m almost on my tiptoes. “Do you know why I’m pissed?” he asks, stepping up behind me, the feel of the denim of his jeans rubbing against my bare skin.
“Yes,” I say, and his hand slides over my ass, his boot-covered foot spreading mine farther apart.
“Do you think you deserve to be punished for going behind my back, ordering a bed, having it delivered, and telling them they had to take away the old one or you wouldn’t pay?”
“No,” I tell him honestly.
“Figured you’d feel that way.” He bent over me, nipping my ear. “You gonna apologize?”
“Sorry,” I tell him, squeezing my eyes closed as his hand slides over my clit, then cry out as that same hand comes down hard on my ass.
“That didn’t sound sincere, baby,” he admonishes, placing that hand back between my legs. Each pass over my clit causes my back to arch and my ass to press into his groin. “Now, tell me you’re sorry again.”
“I’m sorry about the bed,” I say, and his fingers slide inside me, out and around my clit, and then back in deep. His other hand slides under me, cups my breast, and pulls at my nipple.
“You’re soaked, baby. You like pissing me off. Does it make you hot?” he asks against my ear, making me whimper. Then his hand moves from between my legs again, spanking me harder than the last time.
“N-no,” I stutter out, needing just a little more. My body is on fire, every inch of me just waiting to see what he’ll do next.